Horror of the North
by Lycanthropic Nerev
Summary: 7th chapter up. The story of Largot, King of the Sea, Lord of Pirates, Demon of Orsinium, Horror of the North, Lord of Terrors. Contains gore, brutal violence, sexual content, disturbing images, and probably a host of other things as I think them up.
1. Child

Horror of the North

Child

Largot.

The name alone struck fear into every seafaring man or woman. Born in the year 3E395 to a Nordic prostitute and an Orcish Warrior-Priest. His mother's name was Skyritya and his father's, Urgan gro-Kaduul.

On that frigid Skyrim night, the Orc came to the brothel. When bought the services of Skyritya, their kinky games changed the fate of many, and unleashed an age of fear and bloodshed upon the sea.

But Largot gro-Urgan was not born the Lord of Terrors, the murderer and reaver. He was born a nobody, the bastard son of an Orc and a whore. His mother, when she was discovered to be pregnant, read the portents of the Greybeards and knew her child was fated to be a great warrior. She knew a poor warrior was a dead one, so she got honest work in a lord's manor.

What astounded her that in her quest to make an honest living, the Lord of the manor had fallen in love with her.

What astounded and baffled her even more was that _she loved him back._

In Largot's second year his mother married, and he was adopted. The wild night his mother shared with Urgan gro-Kaduul was forgotten.

One night, when he was five years old, Largot lay like a cat near the fire. His mother rocked back and forth, humming a tune and polishing her husband's shield. Largot was a good boy, kind and strong. As many children of that kind of union, he kept his mothers traits, looking almost completely Nordic, except for his large ears and greenish-pale skin. He would help the servants with whatever needed doing, constantly being told by his foster father "Just because they are a servant doesn't make them less of a man than you."

But this night, his foster-father walked in, kissed his mother, and went into the kitchen to filch a sweetroll for Largot from the cook, an Imperial named Junius. There was a banging at the door, and his mother rose to answer it, Largot trailing immediately behind.

Once the door was opened, his mother screamed and tried to shut the door, but a sword swung out and splintered the old door, and also sliced his mother nearly in two. She was connected to her legs by shreds of skin and bone, but she was dead, free of the pain. The Orc walked in with his warmask and billowing night-black cloak. He gave Largot a hard kick, his ebony boot nearly shattering a rib. Junius ran out with a knife, and yelped with surprise as he saw the Orcish warrior raise his sword to strike down the child. Urgan swung about and threw a dagger, which sliced clean across Junius' throat and sprayed blood all over the room. Junius made a pitiful sound and stared at young Largot as he fell. The light left his eyes as his head connected to the corner of the shelf and split open.

Largot's foster-father ran in with a sword, and charged his love's murderer. He thrust low, but was blocked. Urgan attempted to chop from above, but Largot's father dodged aside and swung out, uncoiling like a snake. He left a fine, bleeding slice across Urgan's cheek. The whites of Urgan's eyes lit up red, and an unnatural smoke wrapped around him like a shroud. His speed and strength were incredible, supernatural. Blindingly fast, he ran towards Largot's last hope and sliced him in two, up from the genitals through his head. He fell in two halves to the ground as Urgan calmed and surveyed the scene. His son was nowhere to be found.

"You can't hide, son!" he yelled and grabbed a stick, thrusting it into the fire for a moment, then throwing it on the rug. It went up, and Urgan left the house as it began to burn to the ground.

Largot had run when his foster-father burst in. He waited in the bushes and watched his home burn. He didn't see the one who did it, he was in an Ebony warmask with a peculiar design. He watched the manor burn for hours. Suddenly behind him came a voice.

"Well what have we here?" Then a throb on the back of his head, and a strange inner cold. He couldn't move. A mage had cast a spell on him. He was tossed into a cage like a crate, and whimpered as he hit the back and bounced onto the floor.


	2. Slave

Horror of the North

Slave

Largot was scared. He was tired, and he was angry. He was also very hungry. Eventually, the bandits threw a piece of rock-hard, moldy bread into his cage. He devoured it greedily. One of them laughed.

"Dressed like a Noble, but is he? I aint never seen a Noble's boy eat anything so common."

Largot sat in his little cage for days, eating nothing but old bread and whatever unfortunate creature crawled too close. At a secluded village in the North, untouched by Imperial culture or hygiene, he was sold off into a slave market. He was given a small room inside a house, shared with many other slaves of varying races and backgrounds. Here he passed into his sixth year and in that time he became undisputed leader of all the slave children. The man who owned them laughed.

"What the hell are you laughing at?" The child yelled.

Largot was beaten mercilessly for his insolence. He was still the leader, but now he made sure the other children stayed in line.

Three weeks before his seventh birthday, he was sold to a band of pirates.

He was the only slave they bought. The ship's soothsayer and the captain were walking through the street, and the mage, an Argonian, demanded that the captain buy him.

He found himself standing in the captain's cabin, looking straight at the captain and his mage, there was a little girl, about his own age, in the corner.

"Name?" the captain asked.

"Largot." He simply replied. Even at his young age, he knew enough to wait, see what your enemy would reveal about themselves before making a move.

"Parents?"

"Dead." Still simple. The captain showed no concern, only ensuring that he wouldn't get any ransom demands.

"Born free or slave?"

"Free." Largot said, but instantly regretted it. He realized the weak chink only an instant too late. If he had been born a slave, he would have been raised subservient. This way, he would have to be broken.

The whippings were horrible. It wasn't just whippings either. Scare tactics and life-threatening dangers. Crocodiles and a young Minotaur.

"I'll put you through this and worse if ye disobey a word I say." The captain said. "Brig him for the next three nights!"

Largot sat in the brig stoically for three nights. No food or fresh water was given to him. He sat there, hungry and thirsty and furious, but far from broken. He refused to bow down. He would make a show of it, but he would have the bastard's blood for this.

On the fourth dawn, he was brought into a small cabin. It was small, but far better than the slave quarters back in the town or worse, the brig. The little girl from the captain's cabin came in with a tray of warm food.

"I'm sorry they did that to you." She said. Her voice was quiet, but still clear. She seemed the opposite of Largot. She was clearly privileged on the ship, small and fair-haired next to the black-haired, strong, muscular slave boy. Blue eyes were the only thing they shared in appearance.

"I've been through worse torture." Largot said, biting into the meat. "I watched my family get slaughtered but a masked Orc."

"My only family is the cruel devil who bought you. I wish someone would kill him!" She said, her voice and eyes flashing with intensity Largot had only seen in himself. "He killed my Mum when I was little, and took me to stay on the ship with his filth."

"At least you have some freedom. I'm stuck here until someone needs something dangerous done." Largot had been told in no uncertain terms that the worst of jobs would be his to do. "But I guess you have it worse, in a way. No one should ever have to watch their parents kill each other."

Largot was blind to the irony. He had always been treated as a true blood son by his foster-father and knew nothing of his parentage. He didn't know that the masked man who killed his mother had sired him.

For the next few years, Largot did the dangerous work on the ship. Scraping off barnacles and loading ballistae were also on his list of duties. On his fourteenth birthday he was freed and made a permanent crewman on the ship, the Iron Shaft.

But his journey through life was soon to take a drastic turn. He was about to reach manhood.


	3. Lover

Horror of the North

Lover

"Swabbie! Get yer ass o'er 'ere!" One of the crewmen yelled. Largot was sixteen years old, a freed man and the Swabbie on the Iron Shaft. It wasn't much better than being a slave except on terms of pride, and now he could walk free on the decks at any time without fear of being whipped if seen.

"What is it, Jarold?" Largot asked. Jarold was the first mate.

"Floats-Through-Time wants to see ye, in his cabin after dark. He said he had summat important the tell ye. Also, he didn't seem to want the Cap'n the know."

Largot cringed. After dark. He was busy after dark. He knew that if Floats had something to say it was important. He went out to find the captain's daughter Helen.

He found her in the hold below. She was a woman just as he was a man, she'd grown very beautiful since they had first met. She was a head shorter than Largot, her long blond hair tumbled down past her shoulders, her blue eyes glowed with unquenchable vitality, and her body's proportions were pleasing at worst, absolutely irresistible most of the time. Her face wasn't so hard, but it wasn't so soft either. She had suffered too much for her face to really be soft. She and Largot had become secret friends despite her father's sentiments against his daughter traipsing about with his slave, but she wouldn't be denied. She would sneak out in secret at night and sit with him. They both needed desperate companionship. As they grew to adulthood, so did their feelings of friendship grow to love.

He snuck up behind her as she checked the barrels and whirled her around, planting a kiss on her lips and feeling up her ass. She kissed back and placed her hand between his legs. They pulled out for a moment, but before they could continue, Largot stopped it. "Not now, someone might see us."

"I don't care, I love you." Helen replied, kissing him again.

"I love you, too. But if someone sees us your father will hang me off the bow as a prize for buzzards. And then you'd be alone, and I'll never let that happen." Largot whispered.

"Tonight then." She said, taking a step back and smiling.

"About that," Largot said, "I'm going to be a little late."

"Why?" She asked. Largot had only been late for their meetings once since they changed from his room to the Crow's Nest.

"Some of Float's sorcery. He's saved us both before, and I want to see if there's anything there about your father, and when we should kill him."

"Alright, I'll try and bear my time without you." She said, and they kissed goodbye, holding it for as long as they felt safe doing, and went their separate ways for the day. The only thing that came close to Largot in her priorities was avenging her mother. Largot felt sorry for saying that, because if he hadn't she never would have let him go, but if Floats didn't say anything about it then she'd be angry, and he'd have to go for days without her smile, her kiss or her touch. He silently prayed and went about with his work, sharing secret glances with Helen whenever their paths crossed, until sunset when his shift ended and he went down to Floats' cabin.


	4. Prophecy

Horror of the North

Prophecy

Largot walked into Floats' odd smelling, strangely lit room. On the small desk was a piece of parchment, a quill and inkwell, and some weird stones. Largot knew they were magic somehow, but he couldn't tell how he knew.

"In that pile," a voice hissed from under the desk, where Floats was trying to pick up a crystal he'd dropped ,"is one stone that is not magical. Pick it up." Largot reached into the pile and picked up a stone. Floats got up and put the crystal he'd dropped on the desk. "Good." He said. "Now, last night I had a dream. I wrote it down there."

"You know I can't read." Largot said.

"I'll teach you, you'll need it someday. Now, the dream was about you. You and Helen want to kill the Captain. Now, you will get to do it. It will happen very soon."

"You say 'Now' a lot." Largot said.

"Shuddap, boy, and listen. Now,"

"You did it again."

"The Captain will try to kill you. He will fail, and then you will be given the means to kill the masked man who killed your mother."

"He killed my father too."

"No he dinnit. That man was your foster-father. He loved you as a father should, and made a better father than your true father could now or then. Now, lemme finish. The mutiny will be started, but you must not start it. He will have no support, but you must keep him alive."

"Gotcha. Say 'Now' less when you talk."

Largot walked out and climbed the crows nest. "What did he say?" Helen asked after he'd gotten in and kissed her.

"Pretty much that starting the mutiny's all in your hands. Your father has to do something first before we kill him. He's gonna try to kill me, but I'll live through it, and then I'll get something I need to avenge my own mother and we'll kill your dad. Oh, and Floats' gonna teach me to read."

"Did he say when?" Helen asked, leaning back. She wanted her father dead as soon as possible.

"No, but it'd be soon. He told me that much." He leaned next to her. They both stayed silent for a long time. Some nights it was like this, they didn't need words or contact, just themselves. After hours of just sitting together, they had to leave. They went to their respective rooms and thought of what was to happen in their future.


	5. First Awakening

Horror of the North

Devil's Awakening

A full year passed, and during that time Largot first killed.

He had seen death as a young child, and the void that the horror had caused seemed temporarily alleviated when he drove the sword through the merchant. He began to volunteer to be in the boarding parties just to be able to kill people. He came to igniting battles where there would have been none just for the rush of fullness he felt when he cut men down.

Among the crew, he began to gain a reputation as a merciless devil. He began to earn the respect of the captain and of other powerful crewmen. What they didn't know was that he carefully chose his targets.

None of the other active crewmen knew his pain, but he knew what it was like to lose family. He couldn't bear to go without killing, as the void in his soul seemed to eat at the rest of him, so he passed his pain along to anyone who had a weapon drawn. Surgeons, children, anyone defenseless would be spared, at least by him. All others would be cut down without mercy or compassion.

The day before he turned seventeen, the mutiny began.

Helen had told him about it, and he agreed that if it came to it, he would fight alongside her. As it turned out, only three men were against her when she marched on her father's cabin. She slaughtered them with a ferocity that matched her lover's.

Her father, when he saw that he was betrayed, begged for terms of release. Remembering the prophecy, Helen managed to restrain herself. He asked that she, Largot and Floats come into the cabin and discuss his fate.

After a few minutes, Floats asked that he may take Helen out "to discuss the matter further."

Largot and the captain were left alone in the cabin. Largot was offered some rum. He didn't trust the captain, he knew that a cornered beast could do anything, but he did trust Floats. He took a sip.

"So, I saw it in your eyes, you and my daughter are involved, yes?"

"Yes we are, former captain." Largot said, suddenly becoming dizzy.

"Well then, if I can't kill her for this betrayal," he said, drawing he saber, "I'll kill what she holds dear."

The poison worked its way through Largot's veins, dulling nerves and slowing his mind. He managed to strafe to the left, barely avoiding a fatal blow as the sword embedded itself in his shoulder, nailing him to the wall. The former captain tried to pull out the weapon, but it was stuck. He drew his dagger and prepared to slit the young man's throat.

Largot's mind snapped into a supernatural focus. He jumped forward, ripping himself through the sword, leaving it in the wall. He punched the former captain's face, his mailed hands mutilating it virtually beyond recognition, slicing across his eyes and blinding him. Floats and Helen ran in just as Largot, eyes glowing and wreathed in black-and-red smoke, destroyed a section of the wall to recover the sword. She drew her own sword and their blades crossed through the former captain's heart.

Helen wrenched hers out and brought a chunk of the heart out with it. She sliced off her father's head and stuck it on a spear, leaving it on the bow for the seabirds to feed on.

"What was that?" Largot asked Floats the next day during his reading lessons.

"It was a power in your blood. All of your father's ancestors had it since one of his oldest ancestors was raped by Molag Bal, the Daedric Prince of Rape, Pillage and Torture. Also," he added tentatively, "of blood."

"Didn't he make vampires?" Largot asked. He had read one of Floats' books about it.

"Yes, he used his power over blood to transform a woman he ravished, Lamae. He did not do it to your ancestor, she remained mortal. Now keep reading, dammit. You'll need it very soon. In three days you will gain vital information regarding your ancestry and your future."


	6. Revelation

Horror of the North

Revelation

Three days passed. On the dawn of the third day Helen ordered an attack on a galleon. As the Iron Shaft approached, it became clear that the galleon had already been taken. Unfortunately, the ship that destroyed it was still there.

It was an Orcish War Frigate, the sails black and torn, the wood old and rotted. The raiding party on board was already bloated from the victory, but still frenzied from battle. They began to holler war-cries as the Shaft approached, then it's leader came out.

Largot shook with rage as the events of that night, only dimly remembered, came flooding back with terrifying clarity. The masked man stood at the head of his raiders, and roared. Largot's eyes went bloodshot and for a moment it seemed like a smoke rose from him.

The first of the masked man's attacks hit the Shaft like a boulder from a giant's hand. It wasn't a spell, but it was similar in a general sort of way. It seemed like a focused ball of the smoke that had wreathed Largot.

"Hard to port! Let's get the hell out of here!" Helen yelled. Largot spun the helm and turned the ship as fast as it would go. They had a full wind backing them, but the other ship was far faster. It sped right past them like nothing, then turned and blocked their passage. It was so much larger that ramming it would have been futile.

The raiders wanted to stream aboard, but their leader forbade it and went on himself.

"On your ship you have a Largot. Allow me to fight him, and I'll leave you all alive." He said.

Largot stepped forward, sword drawn. "I'll kill you for what you did to my family."

"Let's see how you've grown. Let's see if you're worthy of your heritage."

They ran at each other. The much larger Orc bringing his giant blade down for a crushing blow that shattered the old, iron saber Largot had been using. It hadn't even been a contest.

"You are unworthy. I should kill you now, son, but that would be too easy. A death in battle is more than you deserve."

"Son…?" Largot panted.

The masked man laughed a terrifying laugh. "That whore never told you who you were? You are the worthless son of the great Urgan gro-Kaduul. Now, you must live with your failure and-"

Largot sprung up and punched as hard as he could. He managed to land the blow onto Urgan's unprotected throat. He gagged and vomited inside his mask, then whipped out a dagger and dragged it vertically down his son's face. He started at the forehead and went down, through the left eye, and ended midway through the cheek. Largot grunted and clutched his face, suddenly glowing black and red.

"So you do have some strength, but no matter. Your failure here shows me that you are the most worthless son a father could have."

With that he left. His ship sped away and his words echoed in Largot's ears as he knelt there, pulsing, until he went berserk and flew at the nearest thing with a pulse.

Unfortunately, that thing was Floats. Largot's hand smashed across his face, destroying his skull and throwing him like a rag doll across the whole deck. He looked up. Everyone who saw him swore that his now-useless left eye glowed red as black-and-red smoke cascaded off of him. He was panting heavily and his carriage was that of a beast after the kill. Suddenly, he convulsed, as if trying to contain himself, then he fell to the ground, his left eye a dull grey-white and the smoke had gone as quickly as it had come.


	7. Hunter

Horror of the North

Hunter

Largot woke an hour later. Helen was standing over him as the ship's doctor examined his eye.

"Get off me!" he yelled as the doctor brought a scalpel down to take a sample of his eye tissue. "I don't have time to heal. Helen, I helped you kill your father, can you do the same for me?"

Helen only nodded. She knew that either she would help, or he would leave and find his own way.

Largot then took the helm and followed the wind northeast. He knew that ship couldn't be caught with the Iron Shaft. He had put two and two together.

Float's last prophecy was to seek the Red Fang.

The Red Fang was a Dunmeri-Nordic legend about a ship, controlled by the spirits of it's ancient captains, that sailed the Sea of Ghosts to the northeast of Morrowind. It was said that no ship was faster. After days of searching, Largot was about to pull the ship into port in Khuul to restock and refit. It was Marduk's keen eye that caught the dim phosphorescent glow on the water. Largot steered the ship over and began following the twisted course. Seven times that night the Iron Shaft nearly sank on the jagged rocks of the Sea of Ghosts, until, a few hours after midnight, they saw it.

The ship itself did not glow. It seemed rusted and mundane, at best, but Largot knew it was the one. He was prepared to push the Shaft to the limit, but the Fang stopped and let them pull alongside.

"I'm going this one alone." He said, then walked aboard.

The air chilled, a slow, steady, almost inaudible breath was heard from behind the door to the Captain's Cabin. Largot followed the sound and entered.

The room was so bizarre. It seemed like each of the captains that had taken possession of the ship added one thing to the cabin. Most recent was an ornate desk with a globe of Nirn on it. In the corner stood the captain who added it.

"Ye impudent whelp! How dare ye attempt to board my ship! CREW!" he called, and then the entire horde of ghosts that crewed the ship was upon him.

His borrowed longsword could do nothing to the spirits as they clawed at his flesh, ripping his clothing and leaving horrid, sticky gashes down his chest. His silver eye glowed red and he swung out with his bare hands, and each ghost the smoke douched dissipated instantly, as though the magic holding them to reality had been suddenly severed.

"Such terrible power… Perhaps it is finally time." The Captain said. "Belay! Stand down and return to your haunts!"

Largot panted, staring as his eye slowly returned to its silvery color.

"Ye have true strength. What is yer purpose here?" The Captain asked him.

"I need your ship to avenge my family." Largot replied.

"Ah, so it's a noble, honorable anger, is it lad?" The Captain asked. He began to form a more coherent shape. He was, in life, a Breton. He had a huge head of hair and a long, thick beard.

"I, too, took this ship for that cause, lad. My brother was killed by a band of Imperial Privateers. So I took this ship and used it to get my revenge on the East Empire Trading Company. I succeeded, but I never passed the ship on. Those who die while it is their soul still bonded to the ship are cursed. I was one such man. I am stuck here, until a worthy successor can again captain this accursed vessel, and beings of true flesh and blood crew it again."

The Captain sighed. "Do ye give your name and word to me, Connor MacPherson, that ye will not be the same fool I was, and pass the ship on to a successor while ye still breathe the air of the living?"

"I am Largot, the bastard son of a bastard father, and you, Connor MacPherson, have my word."

With that, the wraith smiled and faded away, as though he had never truly been, and Largot was granted the knowledge of the ghost ship and its secrets.


End file.
